


Walk in the Park

by Dumb_Trash_Monster



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dumb_Trash_Monster/pseuds/Dumb_Trash_Monster
Summary: Ben is at Mick Jagger's abandoned gas station, and he is not happy. He just wants to go home. The only problem is that his car is still at the park, so he turns to Leslie. Angst and awkwardness ensue.
Relationships: Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Walk in the Park

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Sarcastic_Soulmate for beta reading this. Sorry in advance if this is a little dramatic.

Ben was mad. Mad at Leslie because she kept inadvertently hurting him. Mad at Chris because his rule had forced them apart. Mad at Mick Jagger because his name would always remind him of this crappy night and this crappy gas station.

Well, really he just tried to be mad. Though as hard as he tried, he always ended up more sad. Instead of punching walls until his knuckles bled, he listened to sad R.E.M. songs and sulked until April yelled at him to turn the music off. And he was getting tired of R.E.M.. He never thought he’d think that, but one can only listen to “Half A World Away” so many times before it loses its edge.

At least April had suggested some music that he would enjoy “in his current state”. He didn’t know how he felt about the slight about his mood, but he knew the music would be thoroughly depressing because Andy had groaned when she said the band name and whined that art was supposed to be happy.

All Ben wanted to do was go home, wrap himself in his comforter like a burrito, stare up at his ceiling, and listen to some Beach House. Whatever that was.

 _Home. How am I gonna get home?_ Ben wondered.

Ben didn’t know how he had only just remembered that his car was at the park. It seemed like a pretty important thing not to forget.

He surveyed his options. He could get a taxi, but there were only two taxis in the town, and they were probably on standby at Tom’s party. Besides, he didn’t even know how to contact them. He could walk, but he didn’t know exactly where he was. The walk would probably be long, and it was dark, and therefore a perfect time to get mugged or attacked by a swarm of angry raccoons. Or maybe mugged by the raccoons. Pawnee raccoons might as well have been grizzly bears.

Not wanting to choose either of those things, Ben opted for a third, much more humiliating option: Un-storm off, and go back to Leslie. He’d made it about eight yards away from the gas station, and he had only heard Leslie’s car door slam shut a second ago, so he knew she was still there. He turned and began to jog back to the car, all while muttering curses to himself. He reached the car just as the engine started.

He knocked on the passenger side window. Leslie glanced up at him, raised an eyebrow, and rolled down the window. Ben tried his best to force a casual grin as if he hadn’t essentially just told her he never wanted to speak to her again. “Hey. Funny story: I was just walking to my car, when I realized that it’s nowhere near here,” he said sheepishly.

She nodded pensively, then said, “So you want a ride? Because I don’t know if I can. Given that you don’t want to hang out with me one on one.”

Ben panicked. Of course he never should have asked her for this. This was exactly what he just said he didn't want. “Oh! Yeah. Sorry. Shouldn’t have asked sorry. I was kidding. Sorry. You know me, always kidding around very casually and professionally. Sorry,” he stammered. He wasn't sure how many times he had just used the word “sorry”, but he was sure that it was far too many.

He was just about to awkwardly excuse himself and walk away from the car when Leslie blurted out, “Oh god. Sorry. I was just kidding. Of course I’ll drive you back. Because I uhh… basically kidnapped you. Sorry about that. Anyway, get in the car. I have places to be.”

“Places to be? You mean witnessing the apocalypse?” Ben asked as he got into the car and shut the door.

“Yeah. Something along those lines.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence while Leslie pulled away from Mick Jagger’s abandoned gas station. Then Leslie asked a logistical question that probably should have been asked already: “So do you want to go to your house or the park? Do you have your car at the park?”

Ben didn’t want to be pushy, so he answered, “Uh dealer’s- no, driver’s choice. You’re not a dealer. Right? I mean my car is at the park but I’m good with whatever. You do you.”

“I’ll go with the park then,” Leslie offered. After a silent moment she continued, “Ben? You seem a bit tense. You can calm down. Do you want music or something?”

Ben was in fact very tense. He was feeling very awkward, and he didn’t want to say or do anything wrong. He knew his words at the gas station/potential murder site had been hurtful. He knew her well enough for that to be obvious, though everything would be a lot easier if he didn’t.

Ben allowed his mind to wander as he took a deep breath. _What if I had never met Leslie? Would my life be better right now? No. Don’t be silly, Benjamin. She’s the only reason you’re friends with more people than just Chris. And the reason you even have a town to call home. And those two months when we were dating were great. And the months before that when we were friends were cool too. It’s only bad now. It’ll get better. It has to._ He really hated how conflicted his thoughts were. Why couldn’t the different parts of his brain just agree on something?

Leslie hadn’t even seemed that upset about their break up before tonight. Ben had heard from his roommates that on the day he had cried in the mall with Tom and Donna, Leslie was literally throwing a puppy party. When he heard it, he thought it was unfair that he was the only one suffering. He wondered if their relationship was really that more important to him than Leslie.

Up until this point, it hadn’t occurred to Ben that Leslie was just good at hiding her emotions. Ben wondered if he was good at hiding his. Did she know how upset he had been recently? Andy and April certainly knew. He cringed embarrassment as he wondered if they told her.  
Ben realized how worked up he had just gotten. She’d hardly even said anything and he started to spiral.

 _This is easy. So easy. Only a quick car ride. Just don’t say or do anything that could make her or you feel worse about this whole situation. This is as easy and pleasant as a walk in the park,_ he told himself.

“Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“I asked if you wanted music, and then you went silent for like a full minute.”

“Oh. Sorry about that. Music would be good. Allow me,” Ben responded.

He reached for a small button and turned on the radio. The car’s small screen switched from map mode to radio mode, and revealed the song that the station was currently playing: _Al Green - Let’s Stay Together_. At the sight of this, Ben panicked. _Oh God no. Anything but this,_ he thought. Fortunately there was a small lag between the screen displaying what was playing and it actually making any noise.

He quickly turned a dial, hoping to change the station before the once romantic started playing. He took a moment to relax, proud of his quick station changing. Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to Ben, the dial he had so aggressively spun did not control the station, but instead controlled the volume.

An excruciatingly loud note of _Let’s Stay Together_ caused both Ben and Leslie to jump in shock before Ben quickly changed the station as he realized his blunder. He turned the volume down as some news anchor said something about the Republican presidential primaries, which were in full swing.

Leslie looked over at him as she stopped at a red light. “What just happened, and why was it so loud?”

Luckily for Ben, Leslie hadn’t recognized the song from just one note. Ben knew that the car ride would have become much more awkward if she knew what song he had been in such a hurry to stop. He decided that he needed some sort of cover. “It was just some music I know you don’t like. So I tried to change it, but I got the volume instead. Whoops.”

“What music?”

“Uhh, jazz fusion? Jazz fusion. It was jazz fusion,” he answered.

“Oh. I do hate jazz fusion. Just be jazz so I can hate you, or don’t bring pop and rock into the equation and ruin them too!”

Ben chuckled. “I’m gonna have to disagree with you on this one,” he said with a grin. This was a conversation they’d had before.

Ben had tried to play Steely Dan in Leslie’s kitchen once. Leslie strongly objected, and it turned into a small, playful debate solely focused on Steely Dan. It ended with them making out. Of course, a lot of their conversations had ended that way back then.

Ben’s smile slowly faded as he remembered exactly why this conversation wasn’t going the same way as the one from months ago had, and awkward silence set in. With no conversation in the car, the news anchor talking about Rick Santorum and Mitt Romney became the main focus of Ben and Leslie.

The news anchor said something that must’ve been particularly annoying, because Leslie sighed and said, “Can we listen to music instead of this? I’m not in the mood to hear about weeks-old debate performances right now.”

Ben wondered what kind of mood would possibly make Leslie want to stop hearing about national politics, but obliged. He turned the dial and settled on something random. “Done.”

Leslie didn't seem to know what to say next, and Ben definitely had no idea, so they just tuned into the song instead.

It was a nostalgic song. It brought Ben’s mind back to the time he had spent with Leslie.

He was reminded of a walk in the very park where the Reasonablists were gathered now. It was a warm summer night with the occasional pleasant breeze. The park was sparsely attended, given the impending and eventual darkness. It was the perfect place for a secret picnic date. The sky was clear enough to see the stars, but Ben might have spent more time looking at Leslie. The wind rustled the trees, and birds called, but Ben preferred to listen to Leslie’s voice. Fresh flowers’ scents wafted through the air, but Ben paid them no attention, for all of his senses were focused on Leslie.

But all of that was so long ago. That moment, and others like it only came to Ben in dreams and memories. Now, he gazed at Leslie. He didn’t know if she could sense his stare, and he didn’t particularly care. Even though the world was definitely not coming to a fiery end tonight, Ben figured that if it was, he’d want her face to be the one of, if not last thing he saw.

Then her face turned blurry. He briefly wondered why before coming to the obvious conclusion that tears were gathering in his eyes, just waiting to fall. He turned to look out his window and subtly wiped those tears from his eyes.

Once he was confident that his eyes could remain dry for the rest of the car ride, he returned his attention to Leslie. Her bright hair had fallen onto her face. Ben figured that it was surely impairing her vision. Ben wanted to push it out of the way.

It was only when his hand had crossed half of the distance between them when he realized it had done that. It seemed to Ben that his hand had moved of its own accord. Nevertheless, it was moving towards her face, and that was bad. _Stop! Stop now!_ his brain shouted. _You cannot go around pushing the hair away from your ex’s face, dumbass!_ He froze in place, his hand in mid air, unsure of what to do next. _I should just move it back, right?_ He almost started to do just that, but it was too late.

Leslie’s eyes flicked over to Ben, and she caught a glimpse of his odd pose. “What’s this?” she asked, even though she likely already had an idea of the answer.

“Uh, my hand?”

“Well I know that, but why is it there?”

“I-I was just um, waving. To you. A formal greeting. Hello. Hi. Bonjour,” he answered with a miniscule wave.

“Wow. Bonjour? Are you French now?” she remarked in amusement.

“Si,” he quickly stammered before realizing that ‘si’ wasn’t French. “Oui,” he corrected after a pause.

Leslie lowered her eyebrows quizzically. “Hmm. Good save.”

Ben could tell that Leslie was not buying his ‘greeting’ gambit. That was not too surprising, as it had been a pretty pathetic attempt at a gambit. She definitely knew what he was about to do. Which wouldn’t have been inherently romantic, would it? Nothing about gently brushing the hair out of someone’s face screamed romantic. _Nope. That is exactly what that screams,_ Ben thought.

Whether it was romantic or not, it would have been awkward if he had done it. It was awkward enough, and Ben hadn’t even done it. He might as well have done it.

Ben fought to keep his gaze away from Leslie entirely. Despite his efforts, his attempts were moot. Between staring out his window and looking at the road, he glanced at her long enough to spot tears welling up in her eyes.

He realized that he had failed at his one goal: _Just don’t say or do anything that could make her or you feel worse about this whole situation._ His stupid hand reached out to her, then pulled away before even getting to her. Ben thought that that half-assed action probably reminded her of Ben’s less than half-assed attempts at remaining on good terms.

Ben thought that whatever it was reminding her of, it certainly couldn’t have been good. The tears continued filling her eyes, but they never fell. Unlike Ben, Leslie was driving, and was not able to pretend to look out the window and wipe her eyes, so she just held her eyes wide open in an ultimately successful attempt to prevent full-on crying.

Usually, Leslie never hesitated to cry in front of anyone. Not even strangers. Ben wondered if that made him worse than a stranger. That thought was enough to get Ben to look away from Leslie, and turn his attention to the dull dashboard in front of him.

He placed his elbow on the car door, and rested his hand on his head. Staring solemnly at the air conditioning vent, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if it could somehow wipe the negative emotions and thoughts right off of his brain.

Of course it did no such thing. The negative things remained a growing part of Ben’s brain. Ben allowed himself to sulk silently, staring straight ahead, until the car finally pulled into the park’s parking lot. He glanced at his watch, only to see that this little road trip had only lasted for eight minutes. It felt like at least thirty to Ben.

He unbuckled himself and got out of the car. Before closing the door and walking away, Ben hunched down and turned toward the interior of the car to get a better view of Leslie. He knew that some sort of expression of gratitude was called for. “Thanks, Leslie,” he said as sincerely as he could, “For the ride back here, and… and for a lot of stuff. Just in general, for most things, thank you.”

Leslie forced a colloquial smile, “No problem.”

Ben returned the smile, then nodded in a way that made it clear the interaction was coming to a close. “Well, good night, Leslie”

“Goodbye, Ben,” Leslie replied.

Ben shut the car door and waved through the window before turning and walking over to his car. Something was nagging at his mind while he tugged the handle of his driver’s side door. Leslie had said ‘goodbye’. Why had she said goodbye in response to good night? To Ben, goodbye seemed permanent. A permanent goodbye wasn't what he wanted. He wanted the exact opposite, but he had to settle for a permanent goodbye to one aspect of their relationship. He wondered if that was what she meant before he decided that it was best to put these thoughts away for now, and focus on driving.

Ben treated himself to a silent, music-less, and thoughtless drive home. By the time he reached his driveway, he was crying. Apparently not thinking was a great way to get tears flowing. Not even bothering to wipe his face dry, he got out of his car and walked through the chilly November air. He pushed his way through the door and into the living room.

His plan was to go straight into his room and lie down, but those plans were derailed by a sliding glass door. Or rather, the shattered wreckage of one. He found a note on the kitchen table. He read it, and decided that it was the most hastily scribbled note he had ever laid eyes on. It read: _Broke window. Gran Cannon._ It was ridiculously incoherent, even for Andy, who Ben assumed to be the writer.

Ben had no idea what to do about the broken window at this time of night, and he didn’t know what “Gran Cannon” meant, other than possibly a terrible misspelling of “Grand Canyon”. Perhaps it was some kind of horrifying contraption for launching the elderly. Deciding to put the gran cannon and broken window issues off until morning, he went to his room, locked the door to prevent any critters from the broken glass door from entering, and flopped down on his bed.

He put on some of April’s suggested sad music, wrapped himself in his comforter like a burrito, and stared at his ceiling. Aside from the emotionally exhausting car ride, Ben’s day had ended exactly how he knew it would. And exactly how the vast majority of the last fifty-or-sixty had. And exactly how the days would end in the foreseeable future.

Ben decided two things that night. He decided that he hated the foreseeable future. He also decided that if the world were to end in a tragic apocalypse, he would not experience it alone, in a sad blanket burrito. He would want to be with Leslie.


End file.
